


Three's Company, Two's Lonely

by Amarthril



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Leliana as Divine, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Ships, Post-Game, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 19:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7328038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amarthril/pseuds/Amarthril
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josephine, Cullen and Leliana form a close friendship throughout the Inquisition. Corypheus is defeated and Leliana is named Divine. Cullen and Josephine are left a little lonely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Threshold

The candle mounted on Josephine’s tablet spluttered its final breaths and died in wisp of smoke. She mechanically replaced it with another from the endless supply in her pocket. The warm red stub joined the ever-growing pile of discarded candles. 

Cullen and Leliana sat across from Josephine, the scratching of their quills formed a harmony with her own. They moved into Josephine's office from the war room several hours ago when the icy Frostback winds crept their way through the thin glass windows. Now they were seated around her desk, with papers scattered all about them and a dying fire in the hearth.

The defeat of Corypheus only served to increase their workload by tenfold. To Josephine, it seemed as if the real work had begun – rebuilding Thedas – the Inquisition’s ultimate goal. Nobles from every corner of the continent were clamouring to engage the Inquisition, in the hope that some of its power and glory would rub off on them. The smallfolk too, looked to the Inquisition for guidance in all their affairs. 

Sighing, Josephine rested her head in her hands and kneaded her eyes, as if she could scrub away the dark stains which resided there. Drawing another letter from the voluminous stack before her, she began to read. The words seem to chase each other around the page. Try as she would, Josephine could not follow them. It was too much. 

Cullen seemed to be struggling as well. He kept shifting in his seat and rubbing the back of his neck. He never fully recovered from his lyrium withdrawal and though he tried, he could not hide his waning strength. 

Josephine felt cold fingers grasping at her feet, her calves aching. She stretched and rose to stoke the fire, throwing in the last of their wood supply. It would have to do, if they needed more they would retrieve it from the pile in the courtyard. 

Despairingly, she looked over at the papers on her desk. The tower of correspondence had not diminished and her cramped hand was smudged with ink. It was enough for tonight. 

Josephine lowered onto the chaise that stood opposite the fire. The warmth drove away the insufferable chill of Skyhold. Soon Cullen and Leliana also surrendered and joined her. The three remained in companionable silence – too tired to talk. A year of late night meetings and emergency strategy sessions had facilitated a quiet familiarity. It was not something they spoke of but all were aware of how close they had become. It seemed like an age ago that Josephine near despised Cullen for his ridiculous stubbornness and Ferelden practicality. 

Leliana’s slow, deep breaths and her weight on Josephine’s shoulder were telling. Though she would never admit it, Leliana was stretched thin just as Cullen and Josephine were. 

Cullen dredged an old woven blanket from the corner of the room and placed it over them, settling in beside Josephine. It was so heavy it was almost a tapestry. The ancient stitches depicted long-forgotten battles. Josephine leaned into Cullen as he wrapped an arm around both her and Leliana. She barely registered how warm he was before they both drifted into the fade.

* * *

Skyhold was always quietest at dawn. The Inquisitor padded through the great hall, maintaining the peaceful silence for just a few seconds longer. She planned to get some work done at the war table before breakfast. 

She unbolted the Ambassador’s office door a fraction before she noted three sleeping figures on the chaise. The Commander, the Spymaster and the Ambassador were cosied together underneath an ancient blanket, they’re soft snores the only sound to be heard. 

Shaking her head, the Inquisitor smiled and softly closed the door.

* * *

Josephine awoke to the muffled sounds of her aide attempting to be very quiet as he placed the days letters on the desk. Gently, she slid from between Cullen and Leliana, motioning that he could leave. 

A letter bearing a large Chantry seal caught Josephine’s eye. Her breath catching, she took it in her hands. She knew what it was. It was a threshold. Once this door was passed, it would permanently shut. 

Josephine glanced at Leliana, she was nestled against Cullen, lips slightly parted, hair fallen across her face. _Still so young._ A hasty thought made its way into her head, throw it into the fire. Josephine closed her eyes. _No._

She took a breath, her eyes returned to Leliana’s sleeping form. _Just a few moments more._ To remain frozen, fixed forever in this moment, was Josephine’s dearest wish. But alas, it could not be. 

Leliana’s eyes fluttered open and rested on the letter. A flicker of confusion passed across her face before it was quenched and replaced by a grim feyness. Josephine promptly deposited the letter in Leliana’s lap as if it scorched her. 

“It’s from the Chantry.” was all she could manage. Cullen was awake now too, he straightened and stared for moment before comprehension dawned upon him. His voice fractured,

“Leliana, I-” but his words fell short too. Leliana, seemed not to notice either of them. She did not touch the letter but simply stared at it in her lap. Josephine moved beside her, and circled an arm around her waist. 

The three of them sat engrossed by it for minutes unnumbered but when Leliana cracked the Chantry seal, the spell broke too. She methodically unfolded the pages while holding her breath. _Her hands are shaking._ Leliana read slowly, her voice a little higher than usual,

> “Sister Leliana, 
> 
> It is my honour to inform you that the Chantry has elected you to fulfill the role of Divine-”

she stopped and swallowed a nervous breath. Josephine could not restrain herself, wrapping Leliana in a tight squeeze and pecking her cheek with a quick kiss.

“Maker!” Cullen exhaled. Leliana’s eyes skimmed the rest of the letter as she read out the most important parts,

“Please appear in Val Royeaux within the month for the official announcement. An adviser will promptly be dispatched to Skyhold to prepare you.” She sounded breathless. Josephine pressed her lips together in an attempt to quell her emotions churning inside. 

“I’m so happy for you.” _Lie._

Josephine could not be accused of being selfish. But happy was not the right word for what she felt for her best friend and heart sister. Conflicted, torn, bittersweet, more like. Somewhere under her ribs she felt a string tugging and stretching in protest. A threshold had been passed and the way back was shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this sitting on my HD for a little while - now I'm on holidays I want to finish it. 
> 
> Mainly I just wanted to write a Josie/Cullen fic but this turned into an exploration of the relationship between the advisers. I always thought these three would develop a sort of quiet reliance on each other by the end of the game. This will eventually become of Josie/Cullen fic as their relationship grows apart from Leliana. 
> 
> I don't have many plans for this yet so feedback is very welcome.


	2. Sunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou to everyone who read this, commented and left kudos! I’m sorry I’m so bad at replying and slow at updating. It turns out I did more with my holidays than I thought I would (mostly Pokemon GO). Anyway, this chapter is largely Leliana and Josie. I just love writing these two and can’t seem to say goodbye to Lel :’)

A month passed unbearably quickly. Leliana’s appearance in their strategy meetings dwindled. Josephine noted she spent most nights writing alone in her rookery, or deliberating with the Chantry administrator in rapid, hushed tones. On the eve of Leliana’s departure, the inner circle threw a party. They crowded into Solas’ old room, which stood empty but just as silent since his sudden disappearance. 

Josephine’s mood was impervious to the wine and Orlesian cakes. Not even the sight of Sera drunkenly leaping from the scaffolding onto The Iron Bull could break her melancholy. 

“Oi, OI! Speech, speech!” Sera called, poised on Bull’s shoulders. The room stilled.

“Well someone go on then,” she shrugged. The inner circle eyed each other. Varric nudged Cassandra. 

“Sister Leliana-” the warrior started, 

“I have known you for some time now. I have watched you serve devoutly. You have the vision and the will to change our world. The Maker has chosen rightly-” Cassandra swallowed, 

“May you be blessed, Divine Victoria” she finished solemnly, raising her goblet. The party followed by vocalising their blessings and raising their chalices to the rookery above. The room remained still. A beat passed. It was awkward, companionable, intimate. 

They drank. The moment dissolved. The party resumed. Josephine lingered. 

Her fingers danced along the rim of the goblet. Leliana looked radiant, as if she had looked into the face of the Maker, and now her own burned bright. _A mirror reflecting His light._

"The Left Hand blooms on the bush, remembering the light that shone in her darkness. She knows how to sing again." Cole’s rushed, whispering voice sounded in her ear. Josephine jolted, almost spilling her wine. 

“Cole, not now.” She hushed. Josephine was yet uncertain of the waif. When he first appeared on the war table in Haven she had distrusted him like everyone else. Her world had little to do with magic and spirits and his pale, distant eyes irked her. Since then he had proven no harm, he even provided some small assistance. Perhaps she and he were not so different? They both wrought words to achieve their purpose. 

“Heart rendered, snapping, bleeding, an empty chair, its colder now. I will endure, she is utmost.” His swift words halted then ran together - the metre more important than meaning. He spoke emotions into being, making them tangible, binding them to the listener. 

“You will not be alone.” Cole breathed in her ear and vanished, leaving her shuddering. 

Josephine squeezed her eyes shut and drained her goblet in a single mouthful. Time to ponder Cole’s words would be found later. She straightened her spine, feeling her vertebra click in to place. _Just like Orlais._

In Val Royeaux, the actors would shift into character through physical techniques. They would slowly lower their upper body till their fingers dangled by their toes. Then they raised themselves back into place and into character. The practice was also useful for focusing one’s mind and Josephine adopted it in her professional life. 

Across the room, Leliana raised her head and caught Josephine’s eye. She motioned towards the stairs and Josephine followed her. The library glowed warm against the lights of the party below. Sounds of mirth danced up through the air, the Inquisition seized any chance to celebrate these days. 

Leliana leaned into Josephine, entwining their elbows and resting on her head on Josephine’s shoulder. She giggled,

“Remember the last time we slipped away from a party like this?” 

Josephine smiled fondly, it was a golden memory, unsullied and safely stored away. The game was more light-hearted then - or perhaps she had been more carefree. 

“We were much younger.” She said simply. 

The two women leant against the bannister in silence and observed the party below. Neither wanted to voice that only hours remained till they were sundered by miles and gilded formality. Again the string tied to Josephine’s heart strained taut. 

“It’s alright Josie.” Leliana turned to her,

“You are allowed to be sad.” 

Josephine thought to deny it but there was no point, Leliana would always _know_. She exhaled and let her shoulder’s fall. 

“I will miss you and-” she paused. Leliana’s blue eyes were steady as she waited. 

“-and once you are Divine, we will cease.” Josephine stared blankly ahead. She felt a light arm settle across her shoulders. 

“I know.” Leliana’s voice broke slightly.

* * *

Those last hours were spent huddled together in the rookery, warmed by a vintage Antivan brandy. Only the ravens were privy to their whispered reminiscing’s, and later, their tearful farewells. Too soon, the grey morning crept up to the tower and they made the long journey down arm-in-arm. 

Cullen stumbled upon them as they entered the great hall. His curls were futilely combed back in what appeared to be a rushed toilette. 

“Ah – there you are.” His voice was delicate, as if he were making a great effort to choose his words with care.

“It’s not much but I wanted to get you something anyway.”

A small Chantry amulet rested in his palm. A simple gift. No doubt bought from one of the Inquisition traders. Leliana’s lips twisted in a faint curve. She twisted the summer stone sun through her fingers. 

“Thank you.” She murmured. Cullen stepped forward, breaching the space between them. 

“Write us, will you? I know _your holiness_ will be busy but spare time for your humble colleagues.” He bit back a sad smile. It was a well-worn, half-hearted joke and weak veil over his emotions. The jest started between the three sometime after the arrival of the letter announcing Leliana’s ordination. An off-hand comment evolved into a private joke and eventually a secret code for some intangible familiarity. Leliana shook her head in a poor charade of righteous disapproval,

“This joke will never lose your amusement?” She asked wryly.

“Never.” Was his firm reply. 

The three hesitated. Again Josephine felt the threshold before them, heartbreakingly real, in the form of the doors to the great hall. 

Cullen spoke again, this time less certain and more intense, 

“But – you will write?” Josephine caught the layers of genuine concern in his voice. 

“Of course.” Leliana replied. 

Together, they stepped into the courtyard where Leliana’s unusual mount stood prepared – a striped nuggalope – the Inquisitor’s parting present. Leliana had been delighted by the peculiar gift and insisted on riding it to Val Royeaux. The rest of her riding party consisted of a few clerics and a small unit of Inquisition soldiers as protection. A larger party would join her on the road – the status of Divine necessitated an enormous degree of pomp. 

A crowd gathered around the gates, whispering excitedly. Josephine noted the shift in attitude towards her friend. She had always been impressive, and people had always seemed a little in awe of her. But she was simply Sister Nightingale, the mysterious spymaster of the Inquisition. Now the awe had steeped into reverence. Though she was yet to be ordained, the Andrastians within the Inquisition had already begun bowing their heads whenever Leliana passed them by. 

It was immensely surreal. Leliana, the woman who named her pet nug Schmooples, who quietly hummed while she wrote missives, who fell asleep on the chaise in Josephine’s study – _this woman will be the head of the Chantry._

The Inquisitor offered a touching formal goodbye before wrapping her arms around Leliana like a Great Bear. When Blanche finally released her Leliana gasped slightly for air but chuckled anyway. 

“If you need anything – anything at all, you understand – ask me first.” She announced, voice booming around the stone walls. 

Leliana turned to embrace Josephine, lips brushing lightly against her cheek. 

“Goodbye.” Josephine finally whispered.

“Farewell, dear-” Leliana paused. She might have summed up their relationship in a word. _But which word? Friend? Sister? Heart?_ Somehow it was all of those things. Language for once, was incapable. To confine a relationship to a simple string of letters would diminish it or carve it into something it was not. Leliana perhaps recognised this too and did not continue her epithet. Instead, they parted, leaving their farewell’s as they were. 

Leliana’s nuggalope snorted, anxious to be gone. The rising sun reflected pink-golden light across Leliana’s face as she sat atop her mount. Josephine allowed herself to admire the impressive sight. _The Maker’s chosen._

Josephine and Cullen followed Leliana and the Chantry party out through the gates. They stood on Skyhold’s stone bridge, the vast chasm of ancient stone and ice beneath them, as Leliana receded before them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, the vision of Leliana riding off into the sunrise on a giant nug is something I couldn’t resist adding - even if it is slightly ridiculous.  
> Expect some more plot next chapter – yes – I now actually have a rough plan for this :D


End file.
